The Woods Are Lovely
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: COMPLETE. Trying to make a relationship work is hard enough when ninja spies aren't involved. Post season 8 finale. Ziva/Ray, other characters making appearances.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Love that dirty water.

Spoilers: Through the end of S8, _Pyramid_. I was so disappointed by the lack of Khufu in that episode.

Summary: I took a study break and this happened. Also, I couldn't sleep. No more information! What I think will be multipart fic, so more to come. Ray pops in and out of Ziva's life post-season 8 finale. Also, oblique _Penguins_.

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><p>Ziva had been awake for at least thirty seconds when her bedroom door opened with a creak. If the soft beeping of the alarm system accepting the correct code hadn't woken her, the intentionally un-oiled hinge would have. She relaxed her grip on the SIG under her pillow. "You could have called to tell me you would be in town."<p>

A tired sigh emanated through the darkness from somewhere near the door. "I should have known I wouldn't be able to surprise you."

She pulled the sheet up over her chest in a show of faux modesty as she pushed herself up in a sitting position against the pillows. "Of the five people who have the code to my alarm system, two would buzz in at the front door, one would knock before coming in and one would have checked the refrigerator for beer before knocking on the bedroom door."

"So I'm lucky number five?"

"You have the least respect for boundaries, if that is what you mean."

"But you haven't drawn on me either."

She had to blink as the bedside lamp he switched on momentarily blinded her. Ray was smiling as she shook the spots from her eyes. "Just because I have not shot you _yet_…" She realized that, given the position of her SIG, she was in an awkward position to carry out her threat, though she did have a knife close at hand. "If you tell me this is just another stopover, I…" she trailed off. If they did have limited time, she didn't want to waste it. His stubble was rough against her palm.

He hesitated as he sat beside her on the edge of the bed. "What does two weeks count as?"

The sheet no longer seemed terribly important. "An apology for last month's three-hour booty call."

"I thought I did pretty well for three hours." He leaned over and stopped just short of the kiss she was expecting. "And, as I recall, I was physically dragged to the bedroom and handcuffed to the headboard on that occasion."

"Do not worry. I have learned my lesson." She closed the distance between them for a moment to peck his lips. "Next time I will use wire-reinforced rope."

He traced the length of her neck with his fingertips. "I might be able to push it to three weeks…"

"Throw in a few dinners, perhaps a trip to the National Symphony, and I will be satisfied." She seized his tie and pulled him down.

She gotten as far as unbuttoning his shirt several minutes later when he caught her hands. "Ziva, I…I'm sorry for last time."

She pushed his shirt over his shoulders. God, he smelled so good. She buried her face in his neck. His weight pressed her into the mattress. It was like a particularly intense dream. She even liked that he hadn't shaved in spite of the scratchiness against her lips. "As long as two weeks is not an exaggeration…"

"At _least _two weeks," he corrected, brushing his lips against her forehead. The encounter was suddenly over. He was very deliberate as he crawled over her toward the other side of her bed. "I've got some reports to catch up on at Langley and the Company has people taking care of my assignments overseas while I recover."

"Recover?" Her next question froze on her lips as she saw the white bandages wrapping his torso when he carefully slipped his undershirt off.

"Don't worry, it's just a little shrapnel. All superficial stuff. Just have to be careful I don't pull my stitches in the next few days. And before you get all aggravated with me for being here because I got hurt, remember that I can see that bruise on your arm where it looks like someone hit you with a baseball bat."

She tried not to flinch when he touched the mark on her upper arm, the result of a not-so-smooth arrest early in the evening. Mostly she was annoyed that he had correctly identified the weapon. "What makes you think you deserve details?"

"Just so we're clear that we both have vague injuries. You got x-rays, right? Nothing broken?"

"Ducky checked me over and I am just bruised."

"Good. I'm not technically allowed to carry out any domestic ops, including vengeance on people who hurt you." He groaned slightly as he turned on his side and reached for her. He had yet to demonstrate physically how much he had missed her, so she undid his belt and tugged at his fly as they kissed. To her surprise, he stopped her once again. "I'm sorry, Ziva, I just…I can't right now. I've been flying for seventeen hours and I don't remember the last time I slept in a real bed…"

"I do not miss those days." She rubbed a spot on her ribs that she was just noticing was sore; hopefully that wouldn't draw Ray's attention later. His weight shifted the mattress as he lifted his hips to push his pants off. She gave his shoulder a gentle shove. "I am tired, too. I just got in an hour ago."

"Case?" He yawned.

"It was not late night at the bar. Well, I suppose it was, but…you did not fly seventeen hours to hear about drunken petty officers and their poor choices."

"If you want to talk about it…"

"Perhaps in the morning." She remained on her side, facing him. "If you are up to it."

"No question." He slipped an arm around her shoulders as she moved to snuggle against him. "I missed you."

"Missed you, too." She stroked the part of his chest not covered by gauze. "You will really be here for two weeks?"

"At least. I promise."

She sighed. Promises. She rolled away from him. That damn box was sitting right on her nightstand. Why did she keep the stupid thing? And in plain sight… She closed her eyes and felt for the light switch, not opening them until the room was dark again.

Ray had followed her back to her side of the bed, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Hey, did I…?"

She cut him off, "No. I just need to sleep as well." She reached behind and gave him a brief squeeze. "Be ready for the alarm to go off at five."

"I'll be up." He was warm against her back as he spooned her. She could already tell that two weeks wouldn't be nearly long enough.


	2. Chapter 2

"Someone's in a good mood. Run over a couple squirrels this morning? Or did you get in a brawl with people not running fast enough for you?"

"I skipped my run this morning." Ziva didn't acknowledge the barb further, taking a long sip from her travel mug of coffee and carefully setting her bag and coat behind her desk before turning to Tony. "Will we be interrogating Manfredi and Johnson soon?"

"We? No. Gibbs…probably as soon as he gets back from MTAC." He waited until she was standing at his side to wave the remote in the general direction of one of the plasma screens. A video image from downstairs appeared. "According to the probie patrol assigned the late watch, Petty Officer Johnson has been sleeping like a baby in one of our oh-so-comfy interrogation rooms since early this morning. I'm sure he'll wake up and request a nice hot buffet breakfast any minute." With an exaggerated snap of his wrist, he clicked to a different feed. "Whereas Petty Officer Manfredi hasn't been able to sit down since we brought him in. I'm thinking Manfredi gets some special time with the boss first to give up real the doer of the deed."

She nodded and sipped her coffee. "Because innocent men do not sleep?"

"Bingo. Kid's like a caged tiger down there." They watched Manfredi pace around the table for a few moments before she could feel his interest refocusing. "But enough about our guilty E-4s…speaking of guilty sleeping, you have that aura this morning. Late night? I mean, beyond our official NCIS duties?"

"I believe that Petty Officer Johnson is an E-5." She deliberately returned to her desk to remove her weapon and place it in the top drawer before sitting down to log in to her computer. Work and coffee. There was no need to devote attention to anything else at the moment. "Is McGee not in yet?"

"Nice try with the distractions, but I've seen enough sexually satisfied women in my day to…uh…you…" she could feel his eyes on her as he tried to gauge her reaction, "well…what's CI-Ray gonna think is my point? Because I'm sure he knows what you did last night, probably via spy satellite."

She sighed heavily. "You can call him when he wakes up in a few hours if you are really that interested."

"Because he's in a different time zone? What, Pacific? Hawaii? East Who's-Ever-Heard-of-This-Place-istan?"

"I did not ask where he had been, I just know that he is jetlagged." She took another sip of coffee. For some reason, Ray prided himself on his ability to make 'great' coffee. She could neither compliment nor complain about it. It was hot, it was caffeinated, it tasted fine… She suddenly remembered something else he had told her before she'd left home. "And he is making dinner tonight."

"So I can check in with him at your place?"

"If you feel that it is necessary."

"No." He frowned, probably because he thought she wasn't watching him. "No." They were typing quietly a few moments later – she purposefully, he aimlessly – when he seemed to decide the subject was not, in fact, dropped. "So he's gonna be here for more than a few hours this time?"

She looked up from the email from a friend at Interpol that she was attempting to answer. "Two weeks."

"Hm."

"What?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing. I was just thinking…the last time he was here…it was only for a few hours, right?"

In spite of her best efforts, she felt herself tense up. "He is taking some time off to…"

"No, I just meant…you were pissy for, like, a week after he left last time and he was only here for a few hours. I'm just wondering how long you'll be ticked if he stays for two weeks and then poofs off again to do his spook thing." The only logical explanation for this monologue had to be a death wish, Ziva was sure of it. She had to consciously relax her grip on a knife she hadn't realized she was holding. Still, he continued, "So if a few hours equals a week of angry ninja and we figure that each day is equal to, say, six weeks…two weeks is fourteen days, so fourteen times six…We really need McGee for this math stuff." Tony finally looked up and nearly jumped out of his chair. Much to her consternation, her arm had automatically cocked, ready to let the knife fly. "Also, we need McGee here as a witness to make you less likely to maim me and…McGee!" This time he did shoot out of his chair, sprinting toward the elevator. "McGee, so glad you're here!"

"I'm not doing your paperwork from last night, Tony."

"What? No!" He was ducking as he hid behind McGee, who was walking into the bullpen. "Paperwork's no big deal. Hell, I'll do yours!"

"What's going on?"

"What, I can't do something nice for my buddy who makes a great human shield?"

McGee looked at Ziva inquiringly. She shrugged, having put away her knife and returned to her email by now. There was no reason to let on how irrationally angry she had been mere moments ago. Pissy? For a _week_? If Tony wanted pissy, she'd show him pissy… She took a deep breath. Lamb. Ray had said he would make lamb for her tonight, his mother's recipe. She wondered if he knew how to make it or if he would be making frantic phone calls to his mother throughout the day. She smiled to herself.

"Stop imagining me as a corpse!"

Confused, she glanced at Tony. "What are you talking about?"

"Sorry. Didn't mean to say that out loud." When she continued to stare, he added, "You've got the spy smile going. It makes me nervous."

"Tony, I can assure you that I am perfectly capable of smiling about things that have nothing to do with _you_."

Gibbs interrupted their subsequent staring contest as he entered the bullpen. "Manfredi ready to break yet?"

Tony broke eye contact first as he glanced at the plasma screen, which was no longer displaying the interrogation room, but ZNN. "Yeah, boss. How'd you know?"

"Weak link. See if Abby has anything real we can use to nail him to the wall. I haven't had enough coffee yet to make up evidence on the spot."

McGee was the first out of his chair. "I'll go right down." He nearly ran out of the bullpen.

"I'm goin' for coffee," Gibbs announced. "You two try not to kill each other in Observation."

"What's this 'each other' business? She's…" Tony trailed off as he seemed to realize that Ziva was the only one left to hear his commentary. He hesitated when she stood to head downstairs. "You go on ahead. I think I might call to arrange a little extra life insurance."

"Do not be so dramatic."

"Yeah, easy for you to say, with your knives all sharpened and ready to go."

She tapped the call button for the elevator. "I apologize for that. It was a…reflex."

He watched her drink her okay coffee, but didn't reply. They stood waiting in silence until he said, "You really were kinda grumpy for awhile after the last time CI-Ray dropped in. I just hope the happy is worth the grumpy, that's all."

"Tony…"

He held his arm between the elevator doors as she stepped in. "I'm just saying that…you take it kinda hard every time he has to leave, even though you know he's gonna be leaving." He punched the button for Interrogation. "Just sayin'."

She assumed the feeling in her stomach had something to do with a mechanical problem that caused a lurch in the elevator. "Well. How is EJ?"

"Enjoying San Diego. No rain, palm trees, quick drive down to Tijuana…subpar baseball team, but that's about the same as here. And I hear they have really low humidity, so what's not to love?"

"Is it true that she…?"

"Yeah, said no to a post at the Pentagon." He swallowed audibly. "I figured it was due to…"

"She was stupid to leave you behind."

"Uh, I wouldn't say…I was going to say she had a fear of five-sided objects, but…thanks."

She didn't have to look at him to know he was smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

Ziva smiled over her wineglass, doing her absolute best not to laugh at the blackened lump on her plate. She had returned from a frustrating day at work to find her apartment hazy with smoke half an hour before. She repeated the same platitude she had been using since then, "It is not really that bad."

"I'm telling you, when my Mamá makes it…" Ray tried to stab his own lump, but the fork deflected off the thick, charred coating. He looked up with alarm. "Please don't tell her how bad this came out."

"It is not so…" She reached across the table to pat his hand. "The salad was very good."

He hung his head. "It came from a bag."

"But you added the cucumber and tomato, yes?"

He eyed her suspiciously as she finished her wine. "Are you making fun of me?"

"You tried. And I appreciate the effort."

"That's fine. Mock me. I deserve it." With a dramatic flourish, he stood and picked up both of their plates. "Can I throw this in the regular trash or do you think it counts as a biohazard?"

Picking up their empty glasses, she followed him into the kitchen. "Don't be so tough on yourself. You have many other skills."

"Though I've yet to find one that you can't match or better." The over-cooked meat sounded like rocks being dumped into the trash. "You still haven't taught me any Krav Maga."

"And I will not until you have your stitches out." He didn't shy away as she ran her hand over his stomach as she passed on the way to the refrigerator. It had not magically restocked itself when she opened door. "Hm. I have chicken, but I am not sure how long it has been here. And most of my vegetables seem wilted. I need to get to the market."

"I'm sure you're still about to prove Moussad offers better culinary training than the CIA does."

She frowned at the expiration date on her quart of milk. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Well, in that case…" his hand rested on her hip as he moved in behind her to offer her a glass, "more wine?"

Leaning into him, she accepted the glass and tried not to think about how nice it was to have someone waiting for her when she got home, even if dinner wasn't ready. Or edible. A rumble in her stomach interrupted her thoughts before they could turn to Ray's lips on her neck. "Do you feel like going out or would you rather we ordered in?"

"If you actually _want_ lamb, I feel like we should go get it rather than have it delivered. Unless we're ordering Indian."

"You said you would take charge tonight. What do you want to do?"

"I think I'd rather stay in a place where I can do this." She squeaked as he unexpectedly nipped her earlobe. "Yeah, can't have you doing that in a crowded restaurant."

A sudden chill hit her abdomen as he slipped his hands under her shirt. "Ray, let me out of the refrigerator."

"Huh? Oh, sorry."

She took the opportunity when he stepped back to grab a sheaf of take-out menus from the counter. "Why don't you order something while I jump in the shower?"

"What should I…?"

"Surprise me!"

She felt refreshed but no less hungry when she joined him on the sofa twenty minutes later. "So what are we having?"

He handed her the wine she hadn't finished earlier. "It's a surprise. You know, while you were in the shower I realized I was so preoccupied with my critical cooking failure that I have no idea how your day went. So…" he held out his arm to invite her to snuggle against him; she folded her legs under her body and obliged, "how was work?"

"Hmm. Not as easy as we thought it would be this morning."

"I thought you said you caught the guys last night."

"We did, but neither would break during interrogation and we now have physical evidence that…" She caught herself as the buzzer sounded. "I believe dinner is here."

Ray pushed off the sofa, nearly causing her to spill her wine. "I'll get it."

He returned a minute later with a delicious smelling paper bag. Ziva leaned forward as he unrolled the top. "Giovanni's? How did you know?"

"I used my advanced intelligence gathering abilities." He produced a half-loaf of garlic bread before taking out a plastic container with a steamed-over cover and handing it to her. "Okay, so I picked the menu that looked the most worn, and I know you usually get the eggplant parmesan when we get Italian and…where did you get that fork?"

She spoke around a large bite, "From the bag."

"Yeah, but...how did you get it so fast?"

The plastic utensil twirled easily between her fingers before she stabbed another piece of eggplant. "Ninja."

"Did you just say 'ninja'?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. She started to feel slightly self-conscious as he emptied the bag while she continued to eat; she was a lot hungrier than she'd thought. He finally uncovered his own dinner, which didn't look terribly appealing and asked, "Is that what DiNozzo would say?"

She swallowed, feeling a slight burn all the way to her stomach. "This is really good, but I think I should let it cool off for a moment." She reached for the garlic bread.

"Are you avoiding the question? I mean, I'm only curious because of the whole CI-Ray thing. Does he call you a ninja?"

The mouthful of bread prevented her from correcting, _my ninja_. She washed it down with a long sip of wine. "He is like that with everyone. You should hear some of the ones he has for McGee."

"Any good ones today?"

"Nothing new or interesting. We were mostly focused on the case."

"Yeah, you were just about to tell me about that when dinner got here."

She shrugged. "There is not much to tell yet. There just appears to be more to it than we originally thought. What?"

"Nothing." After a moment, he smiled. "I don't suppose you want a bite of my linguini with clam sauce."

Her nose wrinkled involuntarily. "I do not even want to kiss you until you have brushed your teeth very well."

"I didn't realize ninjas were so easily intimidated."

She didn't answer, but hid behind her wineglass. He would probably drop the ninja thing soon enough.


	4. Chapter 4

"What's taking so long? I've got better stuff to do than stare at fish all day."

Ziva ignored both Tony's petulance and his taxonomic error, cocking her head to get a better view through the thick glass of the large tank in front of her. Dark shapes moved through the bluish water a fair distance away. After another wasted morning interrogating Manfredi and Johnson, McGee had finally managed to track some anomalous deposits in the men's bank accounts back to a woman named Terry Sutton. Now Ziva and Tony were standing in the amphitheater used for dolphin shows at the National Aquarium to find out exactly why ten thousand dollars had passed through four banks in three countries to get from Sutton to Manfredi and Johnson. It was slim, but it was what they had.

"What kind of dolphin trainer is paying petty officers to whack a corpsman at Bethesda?"

"No idea. McGee said he would call if he found a further connection, but…"

"I'm just saying, I thought hanging out with dolphins was supposed to be some kind of peaceful, spiritual experience. Or is that just Sea World 'pay us a lot to swim with them' propaganda?"

She shrugged, still looking into the tank. "It has its moments." Tony's curious face was suddenly reflected in the glass beside hers. Without turning to him, she said, "Ray took me swimming with dolphins."

"Really?" He leaned his back against the tank, crossing his arms over his chest. "At Sea World? Or at the top secret CIA training center for their specially bred assassins of the sea?"

"In Miami. They have charter tours for that kind of thing." She continued to watch the water as the dark shapes began to get closer to where they were standing.

"Oh? Well, better these guys than sharks."

"Why would anyone want to swim with sharks?"

"Thrill-seeking types, I guess. Something ninja spy-assassins might do for fun." He tapped his fingertips on the glass as one of the dolphins swam past. "I think you're supposed to be in a cage when you do it, but they'd probably just let you dive in with a knife and have at it."

She chose not to respond. Two more dolphins swam past, only to return and pause to look at them. If Ray were here, he would probably make a comment along the lines of, 'They're as interested in us as we are in them.'

Tony, on the other hand, used his badge to tap the glass this time. "Hey, melon heads! Federal agents! We need to talk to your boss!" One of the dolphins simply swam away. The other turned slightly to give them a wary eye. "Can you do a better job than that security guy, Dr. Blowhole? Go find Terry!" He gave an emphatic wave of his arm. "Go!"

The dolphin abruptly snapped around and gave its tail a powerful thrust. A sheet of water cascaded over the top edge of the tank. Ziva barely had time to close her eyes before she was soaked by the cold saltwater. Still, she didn't need to see to give Tony an angry punch in the shoulder. "Idiot."

"Ow! Hey, that was not my fault." When she opened her eyes, he was banging on the tank with his fist. "Oh, you're gonna get it, Flipper! Assaulting a federal agent is a felony! They don't serve sushi where you're going!"

"Sorry about that!" A woman in a wetsuit was making her way down a stairway from the stage. "Chesapeake can be a little mischievous! On the plus side, you seem to have at least one of our hand signals down pat."

"Yeah, I already have a job I generally like." Tony shook his head, spraying Ziva with more water; she would have to remember to punch him again later. "We're with NCIS. Special Agent DiNozzo, this is Special Agent David and you're not Terry Sutton."

"No, sorry. Joanne Piper, I'm a supervisor here. We haven't seen Terry in over a week. She just stopped coming in, hasn't returned our calls. Unless she's got a really good reason for disappearing, I don't think she's going to have a job when she… Wait, has something happened to her? Is that why you're here?"

Tony seemed undecided on the wetsuit, as he eyes continued an up and down sweep. "We're actually looking for her, too. Have some questions for her. Was there something going on with her here?"

She had started to wring her hands. "Not here, no."

Ziva was suddenly aware that all three dolphins were watching them, but focused on the trainer. "Ms. Piper, any information you can give us could be helpful."

"Well…I know she broke up with her boyfriend about two weeks ago and she was…she was really upset about it."

"Upset how?"

"I don't know. Sad, a little? More angry than anything, I guess." Piper turned and started talking to the dolphins. "He, um, was in the Navy and told her he was going back and forth overseas a lot. Turns out he was working at Bethesda the whole time. She caught him out with another girl when he was supposed to be somewhere in the middle of Pacific."

"That's rough." Tony was writing in his notebook now. "Do you know his name?"

"Um…Dave….Dane…something like that, maybe? I think his last name began with a C or a K." Ziva and Tony shared a look as she made a circular motion with her hand and all three dolphins pirouetted almost in unison. "I think they'd be going out for about a year, but I'd never met him. Terry never really socializes that much."

They had wrapped up the interview a few minutes later and declined an opportunity to throw some fish to the dolphins just before a crowd of school kids started filing in noisily for the next show. Tony suddenly didn't seem to be in a hurry to get out of the aquarium as they made their way through further school groups on the concourse back to the main building. Remembering her thought from earlier as her hair continued dripping cold water down her shirt, Ziva punched Tony's shoulder again.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"I am soaking wet."

"You're gonna punch me every time you state the obvious now?"

"Only if you have caused a dolphin to splash me."

"Right." He seemed distracted and almost tripped as he stepped on the escalator. "At least the water wasn't too cold."

"Yes it was!"

"If it had been, your wet t-shirt would be attracting more attention."

She took an involuntary look down. "Whatever. At least we have our connection between Corpsman David Coker and Terry Sutton."

"Yup."

"Do you think McGee and Gibbs had any luck at her apartment?"

"They woulda called if they had. Actually, shouldn't we be calling them right about now? Letting them know about our two-timing dead guy?" He held the door open for her as they stepped out of the aquarium. "Guess he thought he had it all worked out, saying he was traveling outside the country, working, but all the while…takes balls to pull that off."

If the hot sun had not immediately improved her mood, Tony would likely have gotten punched again, and not just in the shoulder. "If you have something to say, say it."

"What? I was just commenting on the fact that our dead corpsman was kinda a bastard. Not a great excuse to kill him, but…y'know, woman scorned. And what do I say? It's always the wife."

She rubbed her hands together rapidly, still feeling a bit of a chill. "They were not married yet."

"Close enough." He snapped his phone out of his pocket before she could reply. "We should really let the boss know about this."

Ziva stepped out of the shade while Tony made the call, trying to find a spot in the sun but out of the breeze blowing off the water.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ziva? Hey, can you help me with something?"

Ziva placed the laundry basket she had been about to take downstairs inside the door and turned back into her apartment. Her damp, salty clothes wouldn't suffer if they sat for a while longer, maybe even overnight. And Ray was calling from the direction of the bedroom…

When she found him, he was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, trying futilely to grab an iodine-stained piece of gauze off his back. The pile he had already unwrapped and untaped was sitting in a pile in her sink. "I decided it was time to change these, but I can't reach…!" he made a noise that was a combination of pain, surprise and relief as she yanked the gauze off. "Thanks."

A curved row of ten or so stitches stood out in uneven black relief against yellow-stained skin. She took the time to look over his other injuries – they were all similar. "You said these are from shrapnel?"

"Yeah, nothing to worry about." He pressed a finger to the edge of one of the smaller wounds, causing it to blanch along the scar line. "See? No pus."

"Are you sure there is no material left?"

"Nothing they could see on x-rays."

She frowned, unconvinced. Pulling the bottle of alcohol and washcloth from his hands, she said, "There are cotton balls under the sink. And what were you planning to bandage these with once you had cleaned them?"

He pointed to a bag on the toilet. "I bought some stuff at the drugstore. Couldn't even find bandaids here."

"You need a lot more than bandaids," she muttered under her breath as she touched the first damp cotton ball to his skin, causing him to flinch slightly. "Big tough CIA agent."

"It doesn't sting, it's just cold."

"Hm." She took her time cleaning around the stitches on his back, noting that, while he was tense, he didn't pull away again. The wound looked far less worrying when she had finished. She taped down a gauze pad to cover it and tried to turn him to face her.

He resisted. "I can get the others."

"I know I am no nurse, but…"

"No, you were fine, but you don't have to take care of me. I can manage."

"No, I do not _have_ to." Unblinking, she met his gaze in the mirror. "Please, Ray?"

He sighed and turned, pushing himself up to sit on the countertop. "Sorry. I'm just not used to someone…"

"I know." She looked up from what she was doing to peck his lips. They were quiet as she cleaned and covered two more wounds. The last was the longest line of stitches, stretching from a spot low on his side to the middle of his stomach. "I know you cannot give me any details, but how…was it something that came as a surprise?"

"Just some bad luck."

"And do you often have…bad luck?"

He gave a single grunt of laughter. "This was the first time since I met you." He caught her hands as she moved to place a final piece of gauze. "You don't have to worry about me getting hurt."

"Your fifty stitches would argue otherwise."

"I told you, it's not a common…" His phone, which she had not seen on the counter, suddenly beeped. "I gotta take this."

"Something important?"

"They always think it is. I wouldn't have burned dinner last night if they were a little less demanding. I can finish taping this up." Before she could leave to allow him to answer the call, he caught her arm. "Thank you."

Ziva nodded, trying not to feel bad that he closed the bathroom door the moment she was out. She picked up her basket and went down to the laundry room in her building's basement. As she loaded the washing machine, she felt a lump rising in her throat. Why did he have to have such wonderful eyes? All it took was one look and she was willingly being kicked out of her own bathroom. And it didn't matter if she was angry walking back upstairs, because he'd give her another look and she would be so happy just knowing he was here that she would forget about being mad. She'd already forgotten how mad she'd been on her drive home…

But no. She was mad at Tony then. Tony and his stupid parallels between their dead corpsman and his fake trips overseas. Ray was a legitimate CIA agent with stitches from shrapnel wounds sustained…somewhere. She certainly hadn't been thinking that the bandages were some kind of lame cover. That was just some stupid thing that Tony had put into her head. Buying her lunch may have made up for the dolphin-splashing incident, but it didn't give him free license to…to…

She slammed the door of the washing machine and started it up. There was no need to get so worked up over something Tony, of all people, had said. He was always _saying things_; If they meant anything, McGee would be in heavy-duty therapy by now.

She had calmed down by the time she had returned to her apartment, but the lump was back in her throat when she entered the living room to see Ray, fully dressed in a suit and tie, sitting on the sofa, tying his shoes. "What are you…?"

He didn't look up. "I have to go."

"What? No!" The empty basket hit the floor with a dull clatter as she pounced. "You said two weeks! You…"

"Whoa, now. No need for the tackle! It's just Langley." He held her back and tilted her chin up to force her to look at him. "They need me to consult on something and I can't do it over the phone." He grabbed her upper arms firmly. "I'll only be gone a few hours."

She had a fleeting urge to tell him not to bother coming back, but…those damn eyes again. "You are sure? You are not going to decide that you cannot handle this from Washington and leave on the first available flight to parts unknown?"

"It's _not_ something I can handle from DC." He actually had the nerve to smile. "That's why I'm going to Langley. Then I'm coming back here." He kissed her, his soft lips finishing what his eyes had started. "Love you."

"You too." She trailed him to the front door. "See you soon?"

"Absolutely." He gave her another kiss and walked purposefully down the hall toward the stairwell without looking back.

She checked her watch and closed the door. If she ran after him now, she would feel pathetic and needy and wouldn't even have the excuse that she was just going downstairs to check the laundry. She did the dishes instead.

There was nothing on TV.

The book she was reading didn't seem to hold her interest.

Damn the CIA. Ray was hurt and they still had to drag him into the office… She stopped just short of thinking that NCIS would never do that. There was no point in lying to herself. He would be back soon and they could go back to enjoying their time together and planning for the weekend. She wasn't on call and he'd been hinting about a bed and breakfast somewhere on the coast where not even the CIA would bother them.

No, they would find him. Bastards.

She was still a little angry when she returned from switching her laundry from the washer to the dryer, which definitely came through when she answered her phone, "What?"

"Sorry to interrupt." Tony sounded more amused than apologetic. "If you can tear yourself away from whatever you're doing, Maryland State Troopers found Terry Sutton's car."

"And Terry Sutton?"

"Might be inside. The car went off an embankment on the Patapsco River. They haven't gotten down to it to confirm, but there's definitely a body inside."

"I will see you in a bit, then." She hung up before he could add anything.

She felt like a hypocrite as she left a note for Ray about her call-out. Hopefully he would see her postscript about grabbing the laundry from the dryer before he went to bed alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Ziva caught herself on a tree branch to halt her uncontrolled slide down the embankment and into the river. The last thing she needed was another unplanned soaking today. A moment later, McGee crashed into her. "Sorry. I was aiming for the tree, but…"

"It is all right, McGee." She gave him a moment to release the tight grip he had on her waist. "Perhaps we should continue down?"

"Huh? Oh, right. Sorry."

"Stop apologizing, McGraceless." Tony gave McGee a headslap on the way by, throwing off his balance enough to make him grab Ziva for support again. "It's like you two have never walked downhill before."

Ziva left McGee with the tree branch to follow Tony to the wrecked car, illuminated by powerful portable lights. "The way down is dark and damp and steep."

"Yet here I am, standing close enough to make a rough ID on the body without breaking a sweat." He held up their photo of Terry Sutton beside the blank, bloodied face propped against the steering wheel before calling up toward the road, "It's her, Boss. Definitely dead, probably for a while."

"And not from the accident!" Ziva added loudly as she snapped on a pair of gloves.

"What're you…?" Tony grimaced as he tilted his head to look where she was pointing. "Ah. That's a pretty big bullet hole. No trouble establishing cause of death there, then."

"I shall be the judge of that, my boy."

They turned to greet Ducky, but were surprised to see Jimmy Palmer holding up a radio. He looked at the ground. "Dr. Mallard thought I could handle the initial exam."

"You just need to clear the body, Mr. Palmer. If possible, I would suggest leaving it in place until the winch has arrived and allow it to be pulled up still in the car."

A little over an hour later, they were struggling back up the slope along the trail the car had re-gouged, carrying several bags of assorted evidence. Ziva felt a hand on her butt pushing her up over a boulder. "I do not need any help, Tony."

"Hey, just trying to, uh, you looked like you were having a little trouble there, so I…well, hopefully we can get through all this stuff fast so you can get home to CI-Ray."

She was unable to stop herself from muttering, "Assuming he is there."

"Trouble in paradise?"

"Not at all. Ray had to go to Langley to handle some kind of emergency, so our night was not ruined."

"I thought you said he was taking a couple weeks off."

"He is. But it is just Langley and just for a few hours."

It was dark, but she knew Tony was smirking. "So…never any special plans?"

"Perhaps over the weekend. Tonight, we reheated last night's leftovers and I did laundry."

"How domestic. When you get home will you be pressing his shirts and darning his socks?"

Though she wasn't sure why she would be cursing at socks, she didn't ask for clarification. "I was actually just washing my clothes. You know, the ones covered in saltwater from…"

"Yeah, yeah. I caused you to be attacked by bloodthirsty rogue dolphins. I knew I should have sprung for something ritzier than Five Guys to get you to forget about that. What you really should have done is saved up for your muddy, leafy clothes from tonight that are in no way my fault."

She glanced down to see that he was right. "We are all muddy from the scene. It is not something that could have been avoided."

"And yet some of us are looking so much better than others. Need a leg up, McGooey? I can put my gloves back on."

McGee scowled as he clambered up the slope past them. He did look worse for wear after stumbling into a particularly boggy patch of ground near the front of the car. Ziva was about to offer that at least he had found his shoe, but thought better of it. She climbed over the last obstacle and walked toward the truck to deposit her bag of evidence.

Tony was beside her a moment later. "Want me to check you for ticks?"

"Excuse me?"

"Y'know, ticks. The little disease-carrying bloodsuckers? I'll do you, you do me?"

Gibbs interrupted before she had gotten angry enough at the suggestion to resort to physical violence. "DiNozzo! Something was missing when they loaded the car on the flatbed. Where's the front bumper?"

"Is that what that noise was when they were pulling the car up? Because I think it might be all the way at the bottom of the…"

"So go down to the bottom and get it."

"Y'know, McGee was just saying how much he enjoyed climbing down the first time, so it would really be unfair if I…where is McGee?" He paused to take a breath. "Yeah, on my way, Boss."

Ziva could feel Gibbs watching her as she made sure the evidence Tony had brought up was carefully stowed. "Is there something else?"

He leaned against the back door of the truck. "Agent Cruz is working tonight."

"Yes. How did you…?"

"You and DiNozzo are louder than you think."

"Right."

He was quiet again while she finished packing the gear, but held up a hand to help her jump down. "He's not gonna stop doing what he's doing."

"Tony keeps his voice down when the circumstances…"

"Ziva…"

"I know what you meant. What I do not know is why everyone is so interested in my relationship with Ray?"

He shrugged. "We care. It's tough to be with someone you can't _be with_."

"Thousands of military families manage it."

"Yup. And they'll tell you it's hard."

"Gibbs, I do not mean to pry, but…"

He nodded. "Personal experience."

"And it was worth it."

"For me? Oh yeah. Doesn't make it less hard."

"You think Ray and I…?"

"I don't think anything. I just want to make sure _you_ think about it."

"I…"

"McGee's already gone with the flatbed. I'm goin' for coffee. See you back at NCIS with the bumper. And DiNozzo."

She watched Gibbs walk into the darkness toward his car. "That was odd."

"Tell me about it." Tony suddenly appeared, brushing dead leaves off his filthy jacket and pants. "I'm gonna be pissed if we don't get some awesome evidence off this stupid thing." He tossed the mangled plastic bumper into the back of the truck. "There's, like, a tiger trap halfway down that we somehow missed before."

"Tiger trap?"

"A pit covered over with leaves and stuff so you can't see it? Well, at least now I know which movies you need to see next time CI-Ray is CI-away."

She pulled back the keys to the truck, which she had been about to offer him. "Shut up, Tony."


	7. Chapter 7

Ziva yawned and stretched her arms over her head. The bullpen was unusually quiet for a Thursday morning, a good thing considering the only sleep she'd gotten all night had been at her desk. She blinked at the clock on her computer monitor. Could it really be eight already? Her cell phone confirmed the time – and that she hadn't missed any calls. Either Ray was still at Langley or…he was probably just sleeping late. She would try him in an hour or two. Or maybe half an hour.

She stood and stretched again. Her neck was sore. And her back. She really should have just gone home to change and sleep for an hour or two, but with the new shower room at NCIS and the fact that they were so close to closing this case and Ray being busy… She sat back down and stared blankly around the room. McGee had opted for a short trip home when found he didn't have any clean clothes in his desk or car, Gibbs had disappeared to do whatever Gibbs did when he disappeared and Tony, who hadn't changed or showered, continued to snore with his head on his own desk. She debated throwing office products at him until he woke, but decided against it; he was bound to be damp and grumpy.

There wasn't much to do at the moment. If Abby were still awake, she would be working and if she weren't she deserved the sleep. Ducky and Palmer had planned to start the autopsy on Terry Sutton this morning, so it was unlikely they were finished. It would be another hour, at least, before Manfredi and Johnson were transferred from lockup back to Interrogation. Before falling asleep around sunrise, she and Tony had been debating whether the two men were responsible for Sutton's death. Tony had also been trying to compare the situation to one of her early cases with the team, though she recalled the details only vaguely. She could always look up the old case file, see if he was just making things up…

"Good morning."

She spun around, bumping her knee against her desk. "Ray." He was still in the suit she'd seen him leave her apartment wearing the previous night, even if slightly rumpled now. "You look tired."

He leaned over the partition to kiss her. "I'm really sorry I didn't make it home last night, but…I don't think they'll need me again, if that's any reassurance. And I thought maybe I could make it up to you?"

"No need." At least she knew why he hadn't called to find out where she was. "I have been here. Well, here and at a crime scene since…not long after you left." She abruptly stopped wondering about how wrinkled the clothes she'd left in the dryer would be and began to worry if they'd even be there anymore.

"Oh. So I can't steal you for a cup of coffee?"

"Only if it is accompanied by breakfast."

"You can get away for that long?"

"I have been working all night. It can count as comp time." She looked around for Gibbs and grabbed her coat off the shelf behind her desk. "Tony." When he barely stirred, she walked over to his desk to flick him on the head. "Tony!"

"Huh?" He didn't bother showing any other signs of life.

"We are going to breakfast."

"We are?" His head shot up, but his expression of pleased surprised turned quickly to a frown. "Oh. Not _we_ we. Yeah, you wouldn't want me to come along because I look swampy."

"Not to mention the smell."

He wrinkled up his nose as he lifted an arm. "So not all wet leaves and mud, I guess. Right, enjoy breakfast. I'll be in the shower."

She took a step back. "Yes. I will bring you a coffee when I get back."

"And a donut."

"Okay."

"Maybe two."

She took Ray's hand and pulled him toward the elevator. "Fine."

"No sprinkles!"

"No sprinkles, Tony."

"Frosting is fine! Ziva? Frosting?"

She didn't answer as the elevator door closed. Ray pulled her into an embrace as they started to descend. "_You_ smell nice."

"I took a shower when we returned from the scene."

"Too bad I missed it." He rested his forehead against hers. "The shower, I mean. Not whatever DiNozzo was covered in."

She giggled, feeling only slightly self-conscious about it. "Perhaps I will need another by the time I get home." There was only a passing urge to confirm that he would be there when she did get home. She pushed it out of her head quickly, brushing her lips against his as she said, "Of course, even if I don't…"

They were still distracted when the elevator doors opened in the lobby. This alone would not have been enough to convince Ziva that they needed to stop, but then a throat was deliberately cleared.

"Gibbs. We were…"

"Oh, I could see that."

She yanked her arms off Ray's shoulders as she took a step back. "I mean we were just about to go to breakfast, but…"

Gibbs stuck his arm, the one not holding his coffee, through the elevator doors as they began to close again. "Okay. Take your time."

"Wha-…really?"

He waved toward the front door and she was reminded that she was still standing in the elevator and should probably close her mouth. "Yeah, Ziver. Go eat something."

"Ah. Thank you. I will see you…soon."

"Not too soon. Mornin', Cruz."

Ray nodded. "Gibbs. Nice to see you."

As they crossed the lobby, he said, barely loud enough to hear since the elevator was closing again, "She likes the place with the Belgian waffles on 9th."

Ray took her hand as they stepped outside. It was going to be a warm, sunny day. "Waffles, huh?"

"If you do not mind. I should warn you that parking is terrible."

"Hey, DC."

He was still giving her a funny grin when he opened the car door for her. "What?"

"Nothing. Just…you NCIS people have the weirdest nicknames."

She knitted her brows, slightly confused as she tried to remember Tony saying something that morning. Perhaps she just needed more sleep. As Ray pulled out of the lot, she rested a hand on his thigh. "Do you still think we will be able to get away this weekend?"


	8. Chapter 8

Leaning against the mirror in Observation, Ziva crossed her arms and tapped her left fingers against her right biceps, annoyed with more than the progress of the case. Still, the first round of the day in this room had gone much smoother. Confronted with a double murder charge, Manfredi had decided that a deal was better than a chance for the death penalty and taken all of ten minutes to confess to the murder-for-hire of Corpsman Coker. He had also denied any responsibility for or knowledge of Terry Sutton's death. Ziva, like Gibbs, was inclined to believe him. His main request was that he not be placed in a cell where his partner could get to him.

Johnson, for his part, was proving far less accommodating. "Look, it sounds to me like all you have is what the TV calls circumstantial evidence and the word of some idiot trying to save his own skin."

Gibbs flipped through the folder in front of him. "Funny, you guys seemed like such good friends yesterday."

"Yeah, well, my _friends_ don't lie to the feds about stuff I didn't do. He probably killed these people and now he's blaming me so he doesn't have to take the fall. I'm an innocent victim here. Maybe I wanna press charges against Petty Officer Manfredi for, uh, libel."

Gibbs continued to flip through his papers, head still down. "Defamation. Libel applies to print."

"What a tool." Tony took a large bite of donut and spoke around it, "Whe's Gibbs gon bake 'im?"

Ziva turned her attention away from the one-way mirror. "How many donuts have you eaten?"

"Uh…" He swallowed only with some effort. "Not too many. You did bring back a dozen."

"They were for everyone!"

"What, the whole office? Because we've got way more than a dozen people working…"

"For the team, I mean."

Jelly squirted from the side of the donut as he took another bite. "Immon teh team."

"You are impossible." With a sigh, she reached over to wipe jelly from the side of his face. "Like a child."

"I would have gotten that." He finished his donut and licked his fingers; she found a napkin to finally get the jelly off her thumb. "Those were pretty good. You get them at the same place you had breakfast with CI-Ray?"

"Yes." The reply sounded too curt to her ear, so she added, "They have a bakery."

"Belgian waffle place?"

"Yes."

He nodded. "I haven't been there in a long time." She narrowed her eyes at him. "What? I just meant that I'll have to go again soon if they're making donuts this good."

"Perhaps you could have come to breakfast with us if you had bothered to shower and change prior to this morning."

"Yeah, I'm sure you both would have been thrilled to have an audience."

Her temper flared; how did he know? "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just that donuts provide a more satisfying sugar rush than that weird giggly-flirty thing you do with him." He held up his hands, probably in anticipation of fending off an attack. "Not that I'm saying it's a bad thing for you, just that I really don't want to watch."

She debated hitting him, but ended up gnawing a fingernail. Breakfast had _not_ involved much flirting this morning. "Is it really that…does it look like that?"

"Huh? No. Just, y'know…different. Kind of not what I would expect from spies in love."

"Life is not like a James Bond movie."

"That's not what I was thinking." He immediately found something very interesting on the floor that consumed his attention.

"Of course you weren't." She tried to focus on what was going on in Interrogation, but the cat and mouse game was still going nowhere. It was draining, all this watching and waiting in the wings… Speaking of which, Tony was watching her carefully. "Shouldn't you be paying attention?"

"It's all on tape." He pulled at his belt. "Oh, shouldn't have had that third donut. Gonna have to do some extra crunches this weekend." His nonchalance became palpable. "You, uh, have any plans for the weekend? We're not on call and this crap should be wrapped up. I mean, unless he's busy with CIA stuff again…"

A sigh escaped before she could stop it. "We had thought about going away, but we are staying in town."

"So he is working?"

"No." She paused to consider an answer that wouldn't make her too angry all over again about the loss of their weekend away from work. "He just needs to be available."

"For the CIA."

"Yes. Obviously."

"Obviously," he repeated under his breath. "Well, if he's not going to take the full two weeks to monopolize you, there's a Marx Brothers festival this weekend, if you want to…"

"Tony…"

"If not, that's fine, but…I mean, with me and EJ and you and him, we haven't really had much time to hang out much lately. I kinda miss getting shushed by strangers in a darkened theater for whispering too loudly when I have to explain why the plays on words are funny."

"That only happened once! Perhaps twice…"

"Minimum. Per movie."

She smiled in spite of herself. "_If_, by some unlikely chance, Ray is otherwise occupied by his job, I will give you…"

A chair suddenly hit the mirror, causing them both to jump away from the starburst cracks of the impact. In Interrogation, Johnson was standing, attempting to pick up the table in his cuffed hands while Gibbs continued to flip through the file; at least he had finally looked up. Ziva followed Tony into the hallway a moment later to burst through the door and take down the enraged petty officer. She wasn't terribly gentle about it; there was plenty of suppressed rage channeled into crushing the man into the carpet.

Gibbs didn't stand until they had yanked a cowed Johnson back to his feet. "Two charges for murder and one for destroying federal property. You're payin' for my mirror, Johnson."

The adrenaline rush of the takedown had worn off by the time Johnson was in a holding cell. Ziva leaned against the wall of the elevator as she and Tony returned to the bullpen. A weekend in DC with Ray wasn't such a bad thing. It was possible that leaving would be tempting fate; the easier it was for him to go to Langley, the less likely he would be to get called in. Or so logic would… She closed her eyes. "Marx Brothers?"

"Only if…"

"What time on Saturday?"

"I thought…"

"Just tell me what time, Tony."

"Six. But don't blow off Ray just to…he can come."

"We will see."

A minute later, Tony opened the box of donuts on her desk and picked up the last one. Before she could admonish him, he held it out to her. "Look, it's pink with sprinkles. It's a girly donut. Enjoy."

She did.


	9. Chapter 9

Ziva made a beeline for her refrigerator as she slammed the front door behind her. While filling out paperwork all afternoon, she had come to a decision. The apartment was empty, which she'd expected; Ray's car hadn't been parked outside when she'd arrived home. He must have gone back to Langley, even after saying they wouldn't need him until at least Monday. Even when he was here, he wasn't. She gave up trying to find a bottle opener and used her keys to open the beer she'd grabbed. Cold and bitter, it gave her something different to focus on.

She was busily focusing on the foam rising in the neck of a second bottle when the door swung open. Ray maneuvered awkwardly to close it while maintaining his one-handed grip on a large paper bag. He'd changed out of his suit at some point, so it was unlikely he'd been at work; oddly, that didn't make her like changing her mind. She surreptitiously pushed her empty first beer bottle out of sight. He smiled brightly. "Hey, you're home early. I ran out to the grocery store." He produced a large bouquet of pink roses from behind his back. "And the florist."

"They are lovely." She took the grocery bag rather than the flowers.

He set the bouquet on the counter beside her beer. "There's a couple more bags, so I'll just run down to the car for those."

"You did not have to buy…"

"You're letting me stay here, it's the least I can do. I got steak for tonight, so I can guarantee it'll be better than the lamb fiasco."

"Ray…"

He leaned over the counter to peck her cheek. "Be right back."

She didn't try to call him back this time. The bag he'd brought up contained mostly items that needed to be refrigerated. The steak he'd mentioned was at the very bottom, under bags of asparagus, broccoli and peppers. It was a large top sirloin, dripping red juices through the ripped plastic wrapped tightly around it. She made a disgusted noise and dropped it on the cutting board beside the sink. Using two knives from the top drawer, she cut away the packaging and took out the steak without touching either further. It hit the wooden board with a heavy splat. The plastic and Styrofoam tray went into the garbage. She dropped the two knives on either side of the steak on the board.

The water from the faucet warmed up just in time for her to finish washing her hands with the last of the dish soap. She left the tap running and leaned against the counter. With her head tipped forward, her hair came close to brushing the meat. Her beer was a few steps away, but, much as she wanted it, she remained frozen in place.

She was still there, watching her hair swing over the shining raw red flesh, when Ray returned. "Got the rest. Whoa, you must be hungry. I'll turn on the oven and…"

She interrupted him, "I cannot do this."

"Don't worry, I'm gonna make dinner." She heard the sound of glass clinking and paper rustling as he set two more bags on the counter. "Ziva?"

"Not…dinner."

"I don't…"

"Us, Ray." She finally turned away from the meat to face him. He looked mildly surprised.

"Is this about this morning? Because you were right. I promised you that I'd be around for two weeks and that we could go away this weekend and that I wouldn't have to work and…"

"It is…would you like a drink?"

"Am I going to need one?"

"Probably. Yes."

"Okay, then." She walked to the living room with her beer and sat down while he made himself a gin and tonic. He didn't join her on the sofa, but opted for the chair. "Well?"

She took a deep breath. "My expectations are not fair to you."

"Um…"

"You have serious commitments with your job, which I have known from the start. I knew I wanted to be with someone who could be close, be _here_ most of the time, but because you are you…I love you. I thought we could make it work."

He took a sip of his drink and nodded slowly. "You want me to take a less active role with the CIA. An analyst or something. A desk job."

"No." She reached for his hand, but he pulled it away. "I would not ask for that."

"Then what?"

"I think we need to accept that…we are not right for each other."

"How can you say that? You're perfect for me! I've never met anyone so…so…" He forcefully placed his glass on the coffee table. "I'm transferring. They need someone on the Cuba desk. I won't be going further than Miami for that, so my Mamá will be happy about that, too."

"I will not let you do that."

"Ziva, I'm trying to…"

"I know." An unnatural calm came over her. Now that she had stated her intentions, the complications had melted away. "Please do not make this harder than it already is."

"I don't think you're listening. I'm willing to do whatever it takes so I can be with you. Hell, I'll quit the CIA and get a job somewhere else entirely if that's what you want."

"I cannot let you rearrange your whole life. You will just end up resenting me."

"I won't."

"You are good at what you do. I know that you never talk about it, but…it is something I can recognize in other…professionals. And as someone who has walked away from that life, I also know that it is not something you can leave until _you_ make the choice. I know you are not ready."

"Ziva…" He slid out of his chair to his knees. "I didn't just buy an empty box, you know."

She felt her resolve waver as he produced a sparking diamond ring from his pocket. "Ray…"

"I thought about getting it engraved, but I didn't know what to…" He slipped the ring onto his own little finger; it caught just beyond the first knuckle. He leaned forward, resting his arms on her thighs. "Maybe I knew, deep down…"

She smiled sadly, not even disappointed that he was not fighting her. "The time we have actually been _together_ has been wonderful."

"I wish…I wish things were different. I should probably tell you that the Company needs me overseas by Sunday anyway. I was dreading telling you that, but I guess it's moot now."

"I am sorry."

"Me too." He dropped his head into her lap. "Will you think less of me if I suggest goodbye sex?"

"It is very tempting, but…"

"Yeah, I know." He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. "So…I should go."

"Do you want me to…?"

"I can pack up my stuff. I'd, um, hate for the steak to go to waste, though."

"You pack, I will cook."

Dinner was not tense, but the conversation was decidedly shallow. Luckily, the weather had been somewhat unpredictable of late. She saw him to the door without suggesting dessert. They both stood in the open doorway. This was it. The end. He set his suitcase on the threshold. "Can I call you?"

"I think it may be best if we do not…" she stopped herself. The thought of cutting him out of her life completely hurt more than she had expected. "Not for a while, at least."

"Yeah. Yeah." He tilted his head. Their last kiss was far more tentative than their first had been. She savored the feel of his soft lips. He pulled back first. "I do love you, Ziva."

"That is why we…" Suddenly, all she wanted was to pull him back inside, drag him to the bedroom and…no. She steeled herself and forced a smile. "I will miss you."

"If I ever do settle down…"

"Yes. Goodbye, Ray."

"Ziva…goodbye."

She closed the door softly behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

Ziva was half an hour early to work in spite of tacking three extra miles onto her run that morning. She hadn't slept well. It was better this way – done all in one quick motion, like removing a band-aid. Doubts about the decision she'd made – she _and_ Ray had made, like clear-headed adults – had been expected, but… She dropped her phone on her blotter as if it had shocked her. It hadn't been her intention to scroll down to his name. She was going to have to delete his number from her contacts. For now. Her cell remained on her desk, his name highlighted. Perhaps just a text message to… No.

She reached around the phone rather than move it to type in her email password. Several old emails from Ray were in her inbox. She hesitated before sending them to the recycle bin, one by one. An email could be more trivial than a text; she knew he never checked his personal email while working overseas. One little note to… No, no, no! Would she have to delete his email address as well? Shoot.

Yes! Firing range. Shooting at nothing would make her feel better. It almost always did.

The room was empty when she arrived. Moving to her favorite stall on the end, she set out the three weapons and two boxes of ammunition she had brought with her. Her mind clicked off as she went through motions she had completed hundreds if not thousands of times before. This was control. No matter what else happened in life, she could always hit a target.

She was methodically reloading her second backup for the third time when Tony walked into the room. "Hey, there you are, just like I said."

"Said to who?"

"McGee. He guessed tea with Ducky, proving once again why I'm the senior field agent. Anyway, I brought cannoli that I think give those donuts you brought yesterday a run for their money. I locked 'em in my desk so McGlutton won't suck them all down before we get back up there."

She assumed the dig at McGee was an attempt to get a rise out of her, so she let it pass and continued to reload. "When I am done here."

"They're really good cannoli. I got you a latte too, if…" He poked his head over her shoulder. "How long have you been down here? And why do you have three guns? That's one more than normal."

She shrugged, bumping his chin.

"You didn't beat up another agent in the elevator and take it from him, did you?" He took a quick step back.

"No."

"I got in before McGee, so I know you didn't give him the stink-eye until he voluntarily gave you his."

"This is my other backup." She raised her earphones and put another six holes in the paper target. Or through the hole in the middle of the paper chest that had been there since she had finished her SIG's first magazine.

"Hey! A little warning next time!" He reached for the earphones hanging from the hook at the next station and clapped them on. "So why are you down here disintegrating paper people?"

"I have not shot for a few days and I like to stay…"

"What?"

She shook her head and set the weapon in her hands beside the other two on the shelf in front of her. Tony took off his earphones. "I was saying that I like to stay in practice."

He smirked. "Uh huh."

"What?"

"Nothing. Just that you're down here with three guns, dropping enough brass to make a tuba. Even McGee doesn't need that much practice." He toed a few stray casings away as he stepped toward her. His posture was almost painfully casual as he leaned against the partition. "So…I'm guessing CI-Ray left early?"

All that shooting for nothing. Of course Tony would be the one to pull it out of her, just like he knew to check the firing range for her. Not that there was anything secret about it; she and Ray had made a mutual decision that… She took a deep breath. "In a manner of speaking."

Tony shook his head. "Jerk just couldn't step away from the CIA for two measly weeks…"

"Do not…" She pursed her lips for a moment before saying in a gentler tone, "Ray is a good man. We were just not right for each other at this point in our lives."

"Hey, I'm not saying he's a complete asshole, I'm just saying you deserve…wait, you broke up?"

"Yes." She reached for her service weapon and began to push fresh rounds into her SIG's clip. "We decided that, as things stand, the relationship was not going to work. No matter how much we wanted it to work…it was just not the right time for us."

"And that's it?"

"That's it."

"I thought…" Tony made a grab for his earphones as she raised her SIG and fired. The recoil from each shot felt comforting as it reverberated up her arms, through her chest. In spite of the forces at work, her grip was solid and her aim remained true. She held the trigger even though the magazine was now empty, feeling the clicks in her hands. Tony eventually pulled her earphones off before pushing her arms down. "I thought you loved him."

She blinked away water in her eyes, probably from the smoke and fine particles in the air around her. "I do."

"Uh-huh. And I kinda thought he was in love with you."

"Yes."

"Then I'm confused."

"And I am out of ammunition." She inspected the three weapons on the shelf in front of her. They were going to need cleaning. That would be more time away from her phone and email, more automatic actions requiring no thought.

Tony awkwardly patted her shoulder. "If you wanna, uh, talk or…"

"I am fine."

"Paper guy says different." To her surprise, he unholstered his weapon and held it out to her. "If it'll help…"

"Tony…" She considered it for a moment before shaking her head with a slight smile. "That is sweet, but unnecessary."

"Hm. Well, maybe I should take a few so you don't make me look bad with all the extra practice you're taking." He pointedly waited for her to put on her earphones before leveling his SIG and aiming for the same target she had been using. When he had finished, not emptying his full magazine, he recalled the target along the track toward them. He pointed proudly to a grouping of shots through the head of the target. "Not bad. I figured that in case by some miracle he survived the implosion of the chest you gave him, I better get in a few headshots. Boom."

She swallowed hard, not realizing her choice of target until he had pointed it out. "Showoff."

"Says the woman who cut the heart out of Jackie Paper here. That's a Puff the Magic…"

That was it. She lunged forward, burying her face in Tony's chest. Though she hated to admit it, crying felt even better than shooting.

"Ziva…"

"I know it is better this way, but it still…"

He stroked her back as she sobbed. "Hey, it's okay. I may not be clear on why you and Ray broke up, but…actually, this response concerns me a lot less than all that denial the first time around. Maybe, someday in the far off future, he'll come back into your life and be your elderly boyfriend. You can move to a retirement community in Miami together and play shuffleboard. And you'll be the envy of all the other eighty-five year old widows because your guy is still alive and…"

"Tony?"

"Hm?"

"Stop talking."

"Sorry. I…talking. Right."

He continued to hold her until her breathing returned to normal. Ray was gone, but she wasn't alone. "Thank you."

"Whatever I can do to help." He tilted her chin upward as she stepped back. "Really."

"I know." The moment lingered, but he dropped his hand. She smiled. "Are we still on for the movies this weekend?"

"Definitely. _Duck Soup_, _Animal Crackers_, dinner, _A Night at the Opera_. One of those things isn't a Marx Brothers movie. Then…" He waggled his eyebrows.

"Then?"

"Three words – hot fudge sundaes."

She laughed. "Sounds…wonderful."

"Good. Now let's get back to the bullpen. Cannoli, remember?"

Seated at her desk a few minutes later, Ziva took a bite and pressed delete.

For now.

The End

Thank you to all for reading and reviewing. Title refers to Frost's 'Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening.'


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